


Something's aren't Simple

by Blakpaw



Series: The City of Junk [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Kinda of a head canon, M/M, Mentions of War, PTSD, Trauma, just a shitty situation in all, mentions of abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blakpaw/pseuds/Blakpaw
Summary: Back when the Omnium first blew, it’s not like people couldn’t leave.





	Something's aren't Simple

Back when the Omnium first blew, it’s not like people couldn’t leave, couldn’t run to civilization, get help, to heal the trauma just beginning to form in their minds. Infact, for the first four, maybe five, years after the Omnium went hundreds, thousands, of people ran. Those who stayed, at first, refused to run back to the Government who’d already betrayed them, who not once intervened when this war started, stole from the civilians it swore to protect, and practically gave them up to the Omnics. At first, that is why Mako stayed, by the time those first 5 years had passed, though, it was completely different. By that time, no one would accept them, not the way they were, because their society as Junktown finally began, a cut throat city with no remorse, and the people within it callus and feral.

Than, there were those like Jamison, who were only knee high compared to most society when their world crumbled. Those kids had all found each other in the first weeks, terrified, weak, and sickly, banding together to survive. Those other survivors had no clue all those children were out there, alone, for two long years. By the time they’d found those kids, they’d changed a lot, grown extremely close. Mako knows from the few memories Jamie is sometimes able to gather, and the few of which he tells, they were close enough where they traveled together, and if even one person was to tired they all would sit in rest. In those first two years, Jamison watched a lot of friends die, lose limbs, even there minds. Sometimes, they’d wake up and find someone they knew wondered off only to find them weeks later, died and rotting. By the time the others found those kids, they too had become to feral for society, to paranoid.

Even 20 years later they all still had one thing in common. They all shared a name with the word Rat in it, because compared to other survivors they had been so small, so insignificant, weaving in and out of tiny places for food and supplies, that they’d been nicknamed the “Rat’s Nest”, many already donning the nickname Rat. When Mako had first heard Jamie’s Junker name he’d instantly known the kid was one of them, a brat raised on scrap, bugs, and paranoia.

But nonetheless, it was all the same. It’s not that leaving wasn’t an option. It’s just that, none of them wanted to, Junktown was there home, and it was the only place people with such wild, feral minds could freely live. Those who lived there now either didn’t know any life outside this, such as the dozens of Rat running through the city, or the people who had changed to much, gave to much, to go back, like Mako.

For a long time after joining Overwatch, they got asked on a consistent basis “If you hate it so much why didn’t you just leave?” and all they could ever answer with, the only one they knew they would ever understand even if it brought more questions, was always without fail, “it’s not as simple as that.”

Nothing in Junktown is ever simple.


End file.
